


You Don't Want To See Him When He's Drinking

by liane1787



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Physical Abuse, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 20:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8910445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liane1787/pseuds/liane1787
Summary: John and Dean are on a hunt and Sam intervenes. Things don't go all that well and John leaves the boys to clean up while he goes back to the motel and drinks to deal with his emotions. When the brothers return...well, John is not a good person when he drinks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first ever attempt at writing, so hopefully it's not too horrible. It's based off of a line in S7E3 where Sam and Amy are talking.
> 
> Amy: She has a temper sometimes...It's no big deal.  
> Sam: My dad does, too. You don't want to see him when he's drinking.
> 
> This is not a John-friendly story, so if you're a big fan of him this is not the story for you. I actually do believe that John did the best he could at raising the boys, but there have been a couple of episodes that make it very clear that he wasn't always a good person. 
> 
> Criticism, even if it's harsh, is always appreciated. I consider it a chance to improve, so I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> As always, I own absolutely nothing that even remotely has to do with Supernatural (damn).
> 
> Dean is 18, Sam is 14.

“Sam, no!” John and Dean yelled at the same time. 

Both stood, helpless to do anything but watch as Sam barreled out of nowhere, throwing himself between Dean and the vengeful spirit he and Dad had been hunting. 

Dean had been standing guard with a shotgun filled with salt rounds while their father dug the grave and the bitch had materialized about two inches in front of him. One toss of her hand and he’d gone flying, slamming into a headstone, and losing his grip on his shotgun. The spirit had been advancing on him and he was just reaching for the gun and realizing he wasn’t going to get to it in time when Sam ran between them, holding nothing but a short iron bar. 

Sam swung the iron bar at the spirit with all of his strength and she disappeared. They all knew that was very temporary, though. Dean scrambled to his feet and scooped up the shotgun, quickly snatching a handful of Sam’s jacket and pulling him close. Both brothers looked around with wide eyes, trying to look everywhere at once and anticipate where she was going to appear next.

Dammit, Dad hurry up! Dean mentally cursed at his father. He knew he should probably let go of Sam’s jacket. If the kid swung that iron bar, he was going to wind up getting hit, but he didn’t care. Stupid kid had just taken ten years off of his life by pulling that stunt and he wasn’t going to give him the chance to do it again.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, trying to pull away.

The spirit, apparently having decided that the eldest Winchester was the easiest target, had reappeared just a few inches from her grave. Sam broke free and ran for her, Dean right on his heels. 

“Dad! Drop!” Dean screamed, knowing that even though the gun was loaded with rock salt he couldn’t fire that close to his father’s head without killing him.

John was currently pouring gas all over the bones in the now-open casket though and couldn’t drop. Not without dousing himself in gas, which could cause any number of problems. Dean had just enough time to imagine the spirit taking John’s head off when Sam lunged in front of it again. He swung his iron bar at it again, but this time she was faster. With another flick of her hand, she sent Sam tumbling towards the open grave just as John rolled out and tossed a flaming match.

“SAMMY!” Dean snatched for his arm, the back of his jacket, his belt, anything he thought he might be able to get hold of to keep his little brother from falling into the flames shooting up from the grave. 

For a heart-stopping second Dean thought he was too late. He wasn’t going to be able to catch Sam and he was going to have to watch his brother burn to death, just like their mother. Then his fingers snagged in Sam’s hair (and god help him, Dean was never going to complain about the kid’s long hair ever again) and he pulled as hard as he could, not caring if it hurt. He dragged him back and then collapsed, shaking and clutching Sam to him.

The spirit gave one last yell and attempted to surge forward at the boys one more time before she disappeared in a shower of sparks. Dean quickly covered Sam’s body with his own and felt the brief blast of heat. And just like that, it was over.

All three of them froze right where they were for a few seconds, each processing the monumental disaster this hunt had turned into and how badly things could have gone. Dean managed to take a deep breath and stop shaking, but he still wasn’t willing to let go of Sam just yet. Not with the kid apparently on an I’m going to throw myself into danger as often as I can kick.

“What. The hell. Was that?” John spat through gritted teeth. 

The brothers traded a look and slowly stood. Neither of them liked the tone in Dad’s voice. It was the tone that meant the blazing fire in the open grave was cool compared to their father’s temper right now.

“Get this cleaned up,” John ordered, not waiting for either boy to respond. He turned and stormed back to the Impala.

“He’s really, really mad, isn’t he?” Sam asked.

“Uh, I think that’s a safe bet,” Dean rubbed at his eyes for a second and then realized that he wasn’t exactly helping Sam to feel better right now. “But I think he might be more scared than mad. This was supposed to be the easy part of the hunt and instead you almost got killed three times. Scared the hell out of me, that’s for sure.”

“Great, because that’s so much better,” Sam grumbled.

It wasn’t uncommon for Dad to leave him and Sam to clean up after a hunt, whether it was to re-fill a dug up grave or burn whatever creature they had just finished with. Normally, they didn’t even really mind the grunt work since it gave them time to goof off together without getting yelled at for goofing off. This time both boys were uneasy, though. They worked in unaccustomed silence, both of them wondering just how pissed off Dad was, wondering what to be prepared for when they got back.

Two hours later they finally finished and Dean swung his shovel onto his shoulder before grabbing Sam’s and carrying his, too. That earned him a half-hearted argument from the younger boy, but Sam really didn’t have the energy for arguing that he was old enough to carry his own damn shovel, thank you very much.

The motel was only a few miles from the cemetery, so they made it back fairly quickly and Dean stopped to toss the shovels into the trunk of the Impala before unlocking the door to their room.

He had a split second to acknowledge the fact that the room smelled like a bar and then a fist connected with his cheekbone. He stumbled backwards, but Dad was already reaching out grabbing his collar in one hand and Sam’s in the other and dragging them into the motel room.

“What the hell went on out there tonight?” John roared, throwing both boys forward, further into the room.

“Dad, give me a second to explain,” Dean instinctively grabbed Sam’s arm and shoved Sam behind him. Their father was even drunker than the smell of the room foretold and he was not someone you wanted to be around when he was drunk. Angry, violent, antagonistic. Those were all words that Dean could use to describe his father’s temperament when he started drinking.

Without looking Dean started to move Sam towards the little bathroom. Fortunately, this was not something that happened often. Unfortunately, it was something that had happened at least often enough to necessitate a plan. Sam, of course, had complained that it wasn’t fair for him to hide away in the bathroom while Dean dealt with their father, but Dean had been unwilling to budge on a single aspect of the plan he put together.

“I just…I know I screwed up back there,” he had to say something, as he realized Dad was actually waiting to hear his explanation. “I let her get the drop on me, I lost my weapon, I…”

Sam’s fingers tightened on the back of his shirt. Dean was, as usual, shifting every part of the blame onto himself. As expected, John lashed out again, viciously backhanding Dean. It was all part of the plan, though because the backhand gave him an excuse to reel several more steps towards the bathroom. Another step or two and Sammy would be safely behind a locked door and Dean could let his guard down and just let Dad vent his drunken rage on him.

“I know all of that!” John let loose another punch, this one landing on Dean’s jaw. “But what is your number one, top priority?!”

“Take care of Sammy,” he recited. 

“And how many times did your brother almost get killed out there tonight?” John had suddenly gone from loud and yelling to a soft, silky voice that both boys actually knew was the more dangerous of the two. 

Dean flinched, knowing. All at once he took a deep breath, shoved Sam into the bathroom, slammed the door, and said, “Three.”

“Three,” John seethed. “He threw himself in front of that spirit with nothing but a tire iron! It almost pushed him into that fire. Now tell me, how is any of that ‘taking care of Sammy’?”

“I…I don’t…” Dean shouldn’t have bothered. He knew full well that Dad wasn’t actually interested in an answer to that question. 

His knowledge was confirmed when Dad completely ignored his stumbling attempts at an answer and simply let his fists be enough answer for the both of them. He stepped forward, hitting Dean probably half a dozen times before he landed a particularly brutal punch to the side of Dean’s head, dazing him and dropping him to the floor.

Dean curled into himself, just trying to protect his vital organs from the kicks he was taking from Dad’s steel-toed boots. Dad kicked him once more and Dean felt a snap. There goes a rib, he thought, feel oddly detached. At least one. Probably two.

“Are you even listening to me?!” John reached down and dragged Dean to a semi-standing position before slamming him into the bathroom door hard enough to make his head bounce off. 

Blood flowing from his nose, mouth, and a cut to his cheekbone, not to mention broken ribs Dean still managed to look his father in the eye. He wasn’t going to lie to the man and claim he had been listening, but he could damn well give himself at least that much dignity.

Things had been silent for a few seconds and he felt the doorknob start to move just slightly against his back. He kicked back at the door, hard, and even managed to work up a little annoyance for the kid.

We worked this out, Sam! Dean mentally yelled at him. You don’t come out of that damned bathroom until I give you the all clear.

Dad slammed him against the door one more time and finally let him drop. Dean collapsed into a heap and wiped blood out of his eyes. He sat quietly and watched Dad yank his jacket on and slam out the door. Then, the sound he’d been waiting for. The distinctive rumble of the Impala.

He gave it another minute, just in case, and then signaled the all clear for Sam to come out of the bathroom. Sam ripped the door open so fast he almost didn’t see Dean still lying curled up right in front of it and nearly tripped over him. 

“Dean!” Sam dropped to his knees beside his brother. “Jesus. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sammy,” if it had been anyone else he didn’t think he’d be able to, but for Sam he managed to work up a small smile. “I’ll be sore for a few days and then I’ll be good as new.”

“This isn’t right,” Sam fumed as he started poking around, looking for broken bones. He winced and muttered an apology when he found the broken ribs. “I’m going to get you cleaned up and then I’m calling Uncle Bobby or Pastor Jim. This has gone on long enough. I jumped into that hunt to keep you and Dad from getting killed and instead of being glad that we all made it back in one piece he had to go and beat you all to hell.”

“No, Sammy,” Dean grabbed his little brother’s fingers. “No. If this was a regular thing with Dad, then I’d be all for it, but it’s not. It’s only when he gets drunk. He was scared tonight and he just doesn’t know what to do when he gets that scared so he drinks. You don’t want to see him when he’s drinking, but can you really tell me that you’re scared to be around him any other time?”

Sam clenched his jaw and looked like he wanted to argue, but gave in and shook his head.

“Then we let this be and we don’t talk about it,” Dean settled himself into more of a sitting position. 

Sam still clearly wasn’t happy, but he looked willing to go along with it. He grabbed the ice bucket and started to head out to get ice for Dean’s ribs.

“Hey, thanks for saving my life out there tonight bitch,” Dean mumbled from his spot against the bathroom door.

Sam looked down and gave one of his dimpled half-smiles, “Anytime, jerk.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place just a few hours after the first one. I have this work listed as complete, but if anyone has suggestions for further chapters or suggestions for another Supernatural story that they'd like to see written please let me know! I love suggestions/comments!

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Dean tensed as he heard the familiar growl of the Impala. He and Sam had only gotten to bed about an hour ago, after Sammy was done helping patch him up. By some miracle his nose hadn’t been broken, but it had still taken a while for it to stop bleeding. He did have a black eye and a cut on one cheekbone from the wedding ring that his father still wore, but neither of those bothered him much. He’d gotten worse than that on hunts before. The only time he flinched was as Sam wrapped a bandage around his broken ribs, taping them down as well as he could.

 

 _Please just stumble in and go to bed_ , Dean prayed silently as the Impala’s engine shut off.

 

He cracked one eye just slightly open as Dad fumbled with the lock. The man was still clearly drunk, but judging by the way he was moving as quietly as he could considering the state he was in, Dean thought the worst was over. He’d almost relaxed and let his eyes drift all the way shut when he noticed Dad walking towards the bed he was curled up in with Sam. The brothers hadn’t regularly shared a bed since they became teenagers, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Sam was upset and could use the comfort, so Dean had climbed into bed next to him and wrapped his arms around his little brother.

 

Those arms tightened slightly and he quickly squeezed both eyes shut as Dad came to stand next to the bed. Any other time he never would’ve gotten away with the whole fake sleeping thing, but with Dad still drunk hopefully he wouldn’t notice. He didn’t know what to expect, but what happened next certainly wasn’t it. Dad brushed his hand lightly over Dean’s head.

 

“You deserve so much better,” he choked out. “Your mom would be so disappointed in me, but she’d be damn proud of you. I’m so sorry…”

 

He stood there another minute before dropping himself onto the other bed. Dean couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. It was kind of an unspoken rule between them that when this sort of thing happened, they just didn’t talk about it afterwards. It was pretty rare that Dad got drunk enough to get to that point anyway.

 

 _He must be even drunker than I thought_ , Dean finally determined as he let himself drift off.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

“I can’t right now,” Dean woke to hear his father talking quietly into the phone. “The boys and I just finished up a vengeful spirit case in Michigan and things didn’t go all that well…The boys are fine, Bobby, we just need a little bit of a break…What about Jim or Caleb? They’re a lot close and they could…A vamp nest, huh? Okay…Yeah, give me a day to get there, it’ll keep that long…See you then, Singer.”

 

“What’d Bobby need?” Dean asked, sitting up carefully so he didn’t wake Sam.

 

“He’s hunting a wraith out in Minnesota,” John answered. “He’s having a hard time getting close enough to it to nail down exactly who it is, so he asked for a hand. I asked him to try Caleb or Pastor Jim instead, but…”

 

“They’re hunting a vampire nest,” Dean nodded. “I heard. I’ll wake Sam up so we can get moving.”

 

“Why don’t you boys stay here while I go help Bobby?” John suggested. “This last hunt was rough and you two could use a little down time.”

 

“No, sir,” Dean argued, but respectfully. “A wraith can look like anyone and can cause hallucinations by touching you, right?”

 

“That’s right,” John sounded proud. “You can see it’s true form in a mirror, and you get rid of it with silver.”

 

“Then you’re going to need all the help you can get,” Dean said. He turned and started shaking his brother’s shoulder. “Sammy. Wake up. We have to get moving, kiddo.”

 

“Fine then,” John sighed. “Get your brother up and moving. I’ll load up the car and grab breakfast. We’re leaving within the hour.”

 

“Yes, sir,” respectful, as always.

 

Dean woke Sam up and as they were packing up, explained where they were going and why. Sam shot him a concerned look.

 

“Dean, Uncle Bobby’s going to want to know what happened,” he said nervously.

 

“Dad already told him that this last hunt didn’t go very well,” Dean brushed it off. “He’ll just assume it’s from that. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“I still think that maybe we should tell him,” Sam mumbled.

 

“We talked about this, Sammy,” Dean huffed. “There’s nothing to tell. Dad was scared, he drank a little too much, and he made a mistake. Let it go.”

 

He threw the last of his clothes into his duffel and, seeing that Sam had already finished packing, grabbed both bags and carried them out to the Impala. Dad was just walking back with coffee and a box of donuts, and he happily took one of the coffees.

 

“You boys ready to go?” he asked.

 

“All packed,” Dean told him. “Sam should be doing one last sweep of the room to make sure we have everything.”

 

“Good,” John paused for a second and then tossed the keys to him. “Why don’t you drive for a while? I feel like I could still use a couple hours of sleep.”

 

Dean wasn’t surprised considering just how drunk his Dad had been last night. This was also a bit of a routine with them when this happened. It was Dad’s way of apologizing for what he’d done. Neither of them were exactly the chick flick, hug it out types, which made this method of apology the one they were both the most comfortable with. Much more comfortable than Dad’s drunken apology last night, which Dean wasn’t sure his father remembered anyway.

 

Sam finally came out of the room and they got on the road. Dean actually wound up driving the rest of the way through Michigan and most of the way across Wisconsin before they pulled off for lunch and Dad took over driving. By the time dinnertime rolled around they were pulling into the parking lot of yet another motel and John parked the Impala next to Bobby’s car.

 

“Go on in and let Bobby know we’re here,” he told the boys. “Tell him I’ll be right in. I’m going to head into the office and get us a room.”

 

Dean knew there wasn’t much chance that Bobby didn’t know they were here. The Impala had a pretty distinctive sound. It never even crossed his mind to actually say that out loud, though. He knew that with his father he tended to be what bordered on too obedient, following orders without hesitation, but it was ingrained into him so he simply gave a nod and made sure Sam was following him before he knocked on the door.

 

“Bout time you three got here,” Bobby opened the door with a grin. Seeing Dean’s face, the grin faded, a frown replacing it. “Get yourselves in here and fill me in on what happened on this last hunt of yours. Thought you boys were dealing with a quick salt and burn on a vengeful spirit?”

 

“We were,” Dean shrugged. “It managed to toss me around a little before we made it to the ‘burn’ part, though. Nothing to worry about.”

 

Sam’s jaw clenched and he looked away from Bobby, trying to hide it. Bobby had been a hunter far too long not to notice, though. Not to mention, he knew the two boys standing in front of him too well for that.

 

“One of you want to fill me in on the real story now?” he asked sternly.

 

“Not really,” Dean said, draping an arm over Sam’s shoulders. “It really is nothing to worry about.”

 

“Sam?” Bobby looked at the youngest Winchester. For a second he didn’t think the boy was going to answer him, but then the floodgates opened and everything spilled out.

 

“The spirit was going to hurt Dean so I jumped in and then it went after Dad so I jumped in _again_ and then it pushed me into the grave after Dad had just lit it on fire and it scared Dad so bad that he drank too much and when he drinks too much he gets mad and when Dean and I got back Dad just started hitting him,” came out all in a rush.

 

“That’s the kind of thing you call nothing to worry about?” Bobby demanded.

 

“Pretty much,” Dean glared down at Sam. “Seriously, Bobby, it’s not like this is a regular thing.”

 

“What about you, Sam?” Bobby asked.

 

“Dad couldn’t hit me,” Sam said quietly. “Dean makes me hide in the bathroom when it happens.”

 

“You and I need to have a conversation about what is a big deal and what isn’t,” Bobby pointed at Dean. “Later. Right now I need to have a conversation with your Daddy.”

 

“Let it alone, Bobby, please,” Dean pleaded. “Like I told Sam last night, this isn’t exactly a regular thing. It’s not very often that Dad gets that drunk and he was scared. Bobby, we watched that spirit push Sam right into a fire. If it was for his stupid damned _hair_ , I wouldn’t have been able to grab him in time. It scared both of us and Dad just didn’t know how to handle it.”

 

“And you think that makes it okay?” Bobby asked. “I understand that it must’ve scared the crap out of you, and Sam you damn well know you’re not ready to jump in on a hunt like that yet, but that don’t make this okay. You’re not a kid anymore Dean, I shouldn’t have to tell you this kind of thing.”

 

“The boys giving you trouble already?” John came through the door with a frown just in time to hear Bobby’s last sentence.

 

Without bothering to acknowledge the question, Bobby stalked across the room and punched him in the jaw. He didn’t hold anything back and the hit caused John to stumble back against the door he’d just come through.

 

“What the hell?!” John yelled. “Jesus, Bobby, what was that for?”

 

“For thinkin’ it’s okay to go around beatin’ the hell out of your kids just because you decide to drink a little too much!” Bobby yelled right in his face.

 

“Hold on now,” John straightened up. “Where are you getting the idea that I…”

 

“You really thought your boys were going to come in here with Dean looking the way he does and I wasn’t going to be asking questions?” Bobby demanded. “Dean was trying to cover for your sorry ass, but I know these boys too well not to know when they’re lying to me.”

 

None of them moved or spoke for several moments. Bobby and John glared at each other, both men tense. Sam was clinging to Dean to keep him from jumping between the two older hunters. He felt bad for going against what Dean had said and ratting their father out, but he’d had to do what he thought was right. No, it didn’t happen very often, but it’d been happening more often than usual lately. It was coming up on November, and they all got a lot more tense around November for obvious reasons, but he was tired of being pushed into another room and having to listen to the sounds of his father hitting and kicking his older brother. Suddenly John sagged and rubbed at his eyes.

 

“You’re right,” he said. “It’s not okay. Mary would hate me for this. Hell, I hate myself for this. There’s no excuse, I just…for a second there…I really thought I was going to lose my boy and I was so terrified. I know what happens when I drink too much, and being that scared I never should have started that night.”

 

“So that you understand, I don’t ever want to find out that this happened again,” Bobby warned. “If either of these boys call me and say that it has, I promise I’ll blast you full of buckshot.”

 

“You won’t have to,” John promised. “Because it’s never going to happen again. I’m done drinking. It didn’t do me any favors as a Marine, it didn’t make me a good husband, and it certainly hasn’t done me any good as a father.”

 

“It’s good to hear you say that, but the threat still stands,” Bobby said. “Now that we’ve worked out a plan for how to deal with _you_ , let’s work out a plan on how to deal with this wraith.”

 

“I have part of a plan,” Dean supplied.

 

“Let’s hear it,” John managed a small smile. Everything he’d done, and his oldest was still willing to jump in on this next hunt with no hesitation.

 

“Okay, so it starts off with us handcuffing Sammy to the steering wheel so that he can’t jump out and try to get himself killed again…”


End file.
